CHAPTER XX

THE PASSING OF BIG BOY

Hal helped Big Boy paddle for two hours, but he was so completely exhausted at the end of that period that he had to stretch himself out in the bottom of the craft. The Indian nodded understandingly and pointed to his white friend’s head as if to say that he knew all along what toll the fever had taken of his strength. Very wisely he had reckoned that his tall friend could not stand the strain of the journey alone.

Hal put out his hand and gave the Indian an affectionate slap. His gratitude knew no bounds, for he realized more than ever that Big Boy’s decision to come with him had been actuated by a high and noble motive, the desire to help a fellow being weakened by fever. And no one knew better than the Indian how weak his friend would be.

Hal was so deeply affected by this realization that he determined never to let Big Boy out of his sight, never in his life. And during the long night hours, though there was not a word spoken, nor a hand moved in gesture, they found a mutual contentment in each other’s company.

The moon slipped down behind the clouds after midnight and they paddled through the remaining dark hours. At dawn they came to a deserted settlement and agreed to get something to eat before going further. Big Boy motioned that the rest of the journey was going to be strenuous and that they needed all the nourishment they could get.

He proved himself to be ingenious in the matter of catching fish with his bow and arrow. And Hal watched him with something like awe when he got a fire out of two sticks just by rubbing them together for an amazingly short time.

Big Boy did the honors of cooking the fish also, and Hal had nothing to do but sit down and help him eat them when they were finished broiling. Needless to say he did justice to the Indian’s culinary accomplishments.

Hal noticed, however, that Big Boy’s appetite could top his own by a pretty wide margin. In point of fact, he seemed to stuff, rather than eat, and washed down the whole with tremendous draughts of river water. However, he seemed contented and not at all distressed by any thoughts of indigestion, and greeted his white friend’s questioning look with a merry shake of his flat, black head.

After setting out again they paddled but a half hour when they came to a waterfall and were confronted with the necessity of portage. For two hours they struggled through the jungle with the canoe and came at last to a stretch of smooth water.

But their good fortune was not lasting, for a half hour found them confronting a series of rapids. Hal insisted upon doing his share and took up a paddle, protesting that the breakfast of fish had given him all the strength he needed for the task.

They raced through the first without incident, but before attempting the second, a dangerous looking one, they held a sort of pow-wow. Hal was decidedly against it, but Big Boy, by means of guttural grunts and sounds, assured him that the thing could be accomplished with careful paddling.

Consequently, they set out and, from the very first, experienced hectic moments. For a few hundred yards the rocky cliffs compressed the river-channel to a narrow gorge. Through this the water angrily forced its way, venting its fury by sending up foaming spray and high, lashing waves.

Big Boy motioned Hal at this juncture that he would do the paddling alone, and as if on second thought he removed the wrist watch and gave it to his friend. With a grin he motioned toward the spray foaming in the gorge and shook his black head vociferously as if to say that he was loath to get the watch wet.

Hal laughed and put it in his pocket for safe-keeping. The next second they were headed for the gorge, shooting through it with lightning speed. But halfway through, a wave struck the frail craft, water poured in, and before they were able to bail it out, another wave caught them and turned them completely over.

Hal came up under the overturned canoe and rapidly swam from under. Once on the surface he looked about and saw that the Indian had been carried quite a little distance downstream.

Hal called vociferously and swam rapidly, but the nearer he got the stronger was the conviction that Big Boy was not as he should be. He seemed to be floundering about in the current and, as the motion of the water swirled him about, it was quite obvious from his expression that he was unable to swim.

Cramps! Hal guessed it in a moment when he saw the Indian’s pale lips and pain-contorted face. He was paying the penalty for a huge breakfast.

Hal called to him, motioned to him to hold on, but the Indian looked to be sinking. Too, he was in the very heart of the current which was gradually bearing him down to the torrent below. By this time, however, his would-be rescuer was rapidly approaching the spot, endangering his own life in the attempt.

Two waves in succession caught the Indian at this point and, just as Hal stretched out to grasp him, he was carried out of reach and plunged into a whirlpool. Conscious that there was no further hope, he lifted his black head in smiling resignation, then was churned out of sight by the roaring force of the water.

Hal cried out in despair, but just at that moment the floating canoe came past and he reached out and grasped it.